


The Audience

by Flosscandies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biotic Queen is legit such a good ship, Exhibitionism, F/F, Nipple Play, SENSORY strapons, Strapons, like its so fucking hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flosscandies/pseuds/Flosscandies
Summary: Leader of the terrorist organization Talon, Akande Doomfist, wishes to recruit members of the Scrap Yard into Talon.Moira O'Deorain, one of Talon's head council members, is sent on a primitive mission to take audience with the Queen of Junker Town and recruit her and everyone beneath her to the clutches of Talon.She quickly finds out that the Queen also had something planned for her.





	The Audience

**Author's Note:**

> Inuki drew Moira licking herself clean from this fic and go pls support her if possible ;0;
> 
> http://inuki-loves-steak.tumblr.com/post/175712062671/inuki-loves-steak-day-three-of-no-sleep-yay-and

Moira was humored when Akande, the infamous Doomfist and head leader of Talon, suggested that they ally themselves with the outcasts in Australia, the ones who lived in a place called the Scrap Yard and abided by the rule of their Queen.

She had bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing in his face, in front of the rest of the Talon council. In her mind, it was idiotic to associate themselves with such low lives, people who couldn't even count to ten or understand basic maths.

Yet he did, somehow, some way, make it nearly undebatable on if they should try allying themselves with them.

Most who lived under the Queen could fight, not poorly, but quite well considering their many missing limbs and how it was a society based off of survival of the fittest. In fact, they were more inclined to pick fights among the Omnics, beating them into small bits of scrap and bolts due to their complete and utter distrust toward the bots.

Moira nodded along as Akande finished what he was saying, "it is just what we need for anyone worldwide civil war.

"What we need to advance as humans."

\----

So here Moira was, in the middle of the Australian outback, sweating under the too bright and too hot sun. She was at least a mile from the Talon dropship by now, accompanied by only a few Talon soldiers to appear as small as a threat as possible.

_They could've at least given me trained soldiers_ , Moira thought to herself as she surveyed the men and women around her. They clung to their large guns like a life-line, sweat beading down their foreheads, eyes wide, pupils dilated. 

Afraid.

The Scrap Yard could be seen in the distance. The towering walls and homes that shared a resemblance of the poorly built shacks people would build along the Irish countryside. 

If she didn't know any better, she would've piqued up that it appeared the apocalypse came through here.

Yet she kept silent, the only other sounds around her being the heavy footfall of the troopers around her and their labored breaths. She had forgone her wrist braces and biotic fluid carrier much to her own displeasure, armed with only a gun that clung secretively to her side. 

Akande didn't want her to appear as a threat, and upon further prompting he finally revealed that she would be going in alone.

The troopers were just her back up, she could send a quick emergency signal through her comm if she needed any assistance.

She was a council member, and her protection was made up of three untrained recruits.

_If shit happens, you won't make out of this alive_ , the nagging voice at the back of Moira's head said with mock humor as she approached the large gates leading into the Scrap Yard.

The troopers had already peeled from her side, hiding in one of the larger homes to her right. Keeping hidden until they were needed.

In fact, she didn't even notice them leaving her side, so at least they had something going for them if she did end up dead within such a hell hole.

"Greetings," a loud voice boomed all around her. The steel gate before her appeared to shake, some dirt and grime that had been caked on over the years falling off, "Who are you and why you here?"

The goddamn city looked like it would cave in at any moment and she had only seen the outer walls so far.

Moira wrinkled her nose in disgust at the uncleanliness of it before replying, "I am Moira O'Deorain and I have an audience with the Queen."

A loud laugh was her answer, stepping back from the falling dirt and debris. She was not one to be afraid of a little bit of dirt, but she was not a fan of ruining or at least dirtying her new suit. She was most definitely overdressed for this as everyone in the Scrap Yard only had scraps of clothing at best, but it wouldn't hurt to appear more professional.

"Damn, okay, guess you do have an audience. Come on in, leave your weapons at the gate and the guards will take you to see m'lady," the person finally replied after a brief moments pause. 

Almost instinctively Moira's left arm reached down to touch the small gun to her side. It was luckily hidden from plain sight, and she had no plans on entering without it.

The dust and dirt of the gate fell in waves as the gate slowly but loudly began to go down. Cogs churned and shifted, thick layers of rust and dirt covering them to a point Moira began to question how they still functioned.

The gate was down within a minute, revealing the dust-caked streets of the Scrap Yard, including two large men.

Both men were missing the opposite arms from each other, the one of the left having an eye patch over his eye and some metallic implements in his side. The other man was much better off, only having his missing arm. All-in-all, they looked highly combative.

"Greetings O'Deorain, the Queen is expecting you," the man with the missing eye said simply as Moira walked in.

O'Deorain. Not Doctor. Not Ms or Mr. Just O'Deorain. No one in this city had titles it seemed. No one other than the supposed Queen.

The men eyed her as they turned tail and began leading Moira through a winding street. Almost no one was outside, the heat possibly getting the best of even the toughest of Junkers. Even the men in front of her seemed to be talking about the painful summer heat wave as they wiped sweat from their brows. 

Moira cleared her throat, feeling her suit slowly beginning to stick to her in unfitting ways. With her long spindly fingers, she took hold of her tie, loosening it ever so carefully and enjoying the small bit of pressure it released from her neck. She would have preferred to keep it looser, but she had a prim and proper reputation to uphold. 

After a short walk past a small strip of makeshift stores and empty bars, the men before her stopped at another large gate, almost identical to the one that allowed her into the Scrap Yard.

"Oi Tim, open up, it's Russ an' Dagger, we came wi' the Queen's appointment lady... Or guy... I dunno just open the damn door it's fuckin' hot out here," the one-eyed man yelled out, his metal arm pounding against the door, dirt, and dust flaking off in its wake.

There was a grunt and within moments the door began to shakily descend, opening up another set of streets. This time it was enclosed, a large propeller-like object slowly spinning lazily that was attached to some sort of structure Moira was unable to understand.

Once inside the structure the gate rattled its way back up to the top, now fully sealed shut with a final churn of the gears. An old looking man sat on a stool, three of his limbs missing and replaced by pegs and both eyes clearly removed from his skull, now leaving haunting spaces that the geneticist had a hard time looking away from.

The two men, now easier to classify as guards, said their greetings to him before leading Moira down a set of stairs not too far to their left. It was dimly lot, but the other end was in sight within seconds.

As Moira stepped down the final step, it took her breath away as she came down on something... Odd. Whatever it was had made a loud clinking sound as though coins were being rubbed together below her. It had felt as though the ground was constantly swaying and moving, making her feel she could lose her balance at any time. 

She caught herself against the wall before she could make a fool of herself in front of the guards, glancing down quickly at the ground before her. It was hard to make out in the dim lights, but when she did, she faintly gasped.

Gold.

Solid gold coins littered the floor she now stood on.

Moira stared open-mouthed as she glanced around, there was surely over a few thousand dollars of gold in this tiny walkway. She glanced up at the guards, yet they appeared unbothered by the fact that they once stood atop of a priceless amount of gold.

"Ye, it a lot. Not as much as she got in the backroom though," the guard, Dagger she assumed his name was, said, rubbing his nose with his arm. Russ growled, sending a glare at him.

"You can't say that!"

"Everyone already knows," Dagger shot back as Moira climbed back up the stairs.

Apparently, they had taken a basic shortcut to reach their desired destination. Something she didn't notice until a loud voice slowly began to speak, causing the arguing guards to freeze, turning ever so slowly to what appeared to be a dead end.

But no. If Moira squinted she could see the outline of a sort of chair along with a person's silhouette. 

No, it wasn't just a chair, it was a throne.

A throne belonging to none other than the Queen of Junkertown.

She stood from the darkness, her face coming into light and Moira could feel her mouth go dry. Her dark skin glistened with sweat, the black paint drawn around her eyes was running down her cheeks due to the humidity and pure heat.

The queen gave a smirk as she stepped slowly in front of Moira, her lip piercing protruding unnaturally and making the corners of her green eyes crinkle. Her eyes were heavily laden with piercings along with her eyebrows. 

A single side of her head was shaved and dyed blue, the rest up in an intimidating mohawk and a braid hanging lazily against her shoulder. Muscles rippled under her tight tank that exposed just a bit of her cleavage, the shirt was torn to appear as a makeshift cropped top. Her stomach was toned, revealing a faint set of abdominal muscles beneath. Much to Moira's own embarrassment, she found herself staring a tad too long before looking back to her eyes.

"Greetings O'Deorain," she said, motioning to her side for the guards to leave, "Come, sit; you must be exhausted from your trip here."

The Queen made her way back to her throne, sitting back down and being shrouded in the darkness once again. 

Moira stared quizzically, glancing around and finding no other object that could be sat upon. That was fine, she preferred standing anyways.

"I believe I shall stay here to discuss what I came here to," Moira stated, standing primly as she took in the sight of the shrouded Queen.

"Very well," the Queen sighed loudly, as though annoyed. She stood once again with a grunt, now approaching Moira.

"I prefer to speak upon an equal playing field."

Moira nodded in acknowledgment, not once breaking eye contact with the Queen. It nearly startled her as the ruler of Junker Town stepped closer, close enough until Moira could feel her breath dusting her cheek. It was odd to encounter someone as tall as her, especially another woman, it made her feel as though she had to hold still like a dog under inspection as the Queen slowly circled around her.

The Queen's long fingers brushed against the small of her back, trailing down to hold onto her hips from behind. Moira kept still, unmoving, unmentioned.

"You must be burning in these clothes, I won't judge if you decide to... Loosen them up or take off this jacket of yours," the Queen husked against her ear. 

Moira frowned, placing her hands a top of the Queen's to slowly remove them from around her waist.

"This is highly unprofessional and I came for business, not _this_ ," Moira said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Such a pity, I believe in mixing business with pleasure. Yet do what you seem fit."

The Queen stepped away from her. Yet she wasn't nearly wrong when she had remarked upon how hot Moira must've been. As the Queen stepped into view yet again, Moira's fingers were already beginning to unbutton her jacket. Her tie was still too tight, even from when she loosened it earlier. Taking hold of it she quickly pulled it off as her jacket had become fully unbuttoned, revealing her white blouse.

"Mmh, quite nice," the Queen purred, eyeing Moira up and down.

"Yes, yes," Moira started, in no mood to humor the Queen's antics, "now about my proposal from Talon-"

She was cut off as the Queen's hands found the sides of her tie, pulling her closer by force so their noses brushed up against one another. Moira frowned, finding a lump in her throat. She swallowed and licked her lips, continuing to stare down the Queen even with the new angle.

"We have plenty of time dear, there is no need to immediately talk business."

"And what would you rather talk about?" Moira asked. She wasn't daft, she knew what the Queen was hinting at but she wanted to see how far the esteemed ruler of Junkertown would go.

Although she didn't want to humor her, it had been too long since she had done something like this, and it would be a complete lie if she even said the Queen was unattractive to her. Still, she was unsure if this was a wise idea.

"I rather we do not speak at all. Preferably you being the one unable to speak," her lips brushed Moira's and she growled, her brows furrowed.

"I came only to discuss business with you. I'm certain you have others to see to as well."

The Queen pulled back as Moira pushed her hands against her clavicle, forcing her away even if her body screamed to maintain close to her. She would deal with her bodies urges at another time, just not now.

"Mmh, no. I had no one else schedule an audience with me for today, in fact, I cleared out everything I had planned just to, how do I put it," she paused as she found herself back in her seat. The light had shifted from outside so now Moira was able to look upon her with a bit more ease.

"Ah I know," she declared with a grin, "I had planned to fuck with you. Literally and metaphorically."

Moira cocked her eyebrow, staring at her with disinterest, waiting for her to continue.

"Sadly, you seem unresponsive," the Queen huffed, her left hand traveling down her stomach and below the hem of her leather pants, "how disappointing but I shall respect that... So may I ask; may I take care of my own needs?"

Moira visibly swallowed, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she watched the Queen undo the fly of her pants. Her hand rummaged below in her pants, and, with a small groan, she pulled out a large silicon cock that she had been discreetly wearing.

The size of the blue silicon dick made Moira stop in the middle of what she was saying, her mouth going dry. 

Its tip was flared, the length lined with faint but still there veins. Along the underside of the cock there appeared to be a set of wiring that looked like a miniature motherboard. If Moira was being honest, it appeared just like one of her own toys she reserved for special occasions.

The Queen stroked the length of the toy and groaned faintly, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, awaiting whatever Moira had to say.

"Is that," her voice sounded dry and scratchy leading her to gave a flustered cough, "is that a sensory model?"

"Indeed it is, now please, I'm not here to be a distraction. Continue on with what you have to say," she waved at her absentmindedly, her left hand slowly pumping against the length of the cock. 

Moira's mouth was dry as she stared, trying to figure out what she even had been saying. It was rare that she was speechless, even in powerful company she always had something to say or think about. But her tongue was caught in her throat, her mind stuffed with cotton balls as she continued to watch the Queen's loose wrist work herself.

"I," she tried to begin, faltering as the Queen moaned obscenely.

"I was sent here by the current leader of Talon, Akande Doomfist, to see if it were possible to recruit you and all who service you to join Talon."

This made the Queen laugh for some ungodly reason, her wrists movements stilling as she stared Moira down. Her grin was crooked and her cheeks were ever so slightly flushed.

"Only a select few may _service_ me," the Queen said with her stupid grin growing wider, "and if you truly meant it that way, I believe you are already acquainted with Talon, and if not; the correct word you would need to use is _serve_."

Moira flushed, taking a hesitant step back from the Queen. She wasn't going to comment about the Queen's innuendo, nor her chiding remark on Moira's own use of the word service. No, she wasn't going to comment on any of the two at all.

"Are you hinting that _I_ am one of the select few you would allow to service you?" 

The Queen went back to pumping her silicon cock, gasping softly in pleasure.

"Mmh, you sure catch on quick."

Her hand lifted off of her cock, reaching down to drag her fingers through her slick folds. Moira gazed, feeling her mouth slowly begin to water at the sight. It had been awhile since she had time to take care of someone else's biological needs, let alone her own. The unsaid offer was becoming more and more tempting as the seconds ticked by.

"May I?"

The words had left her mouth before she had any time to register them, leaving her in stunned silence.

"Beginning to warm up to me? How honored am I," the Queen mocked, spreading her legs so that Moira could see her dripping cunt.

"But yes, you may. You have surprisingly good manners for one of Talon's _dogs_."

Moira furrowed her brow, ignoring the dog comment completely as she stepped forward. It felt odd being so close to the Queen as she sat on her throne, the large blue silicon cock shining faintly in the new lighting. The geneticist licked her lips as she slowly crouched down, positioning herself perfectly between the Queen's toned thighs.

"I am not a dog," Moira growled, licking a hot stripe from the base of the Queen's cock all the way up to the tip. Her mismatched eyes fluttered as she pushed the tip into her mouth, sucking on it and relishing in the one of a kind taste.

The Queen groaned loudly, having no shame to hide how she was getting off on this indecent act.

"Could've fooled me with how eager you are; sitting between my legs, immediately licking at your treat I've reserved just for you. You're a dog, a disgusting mutt, and you enjoy it."

She punctuated the end of her sentence with a harsh thrust up into Moira's all too willing mouth. The redhead groaned as she felt the flared tip push up against the back of her throat. 

"Good girl," the Queen praised, running her fingers through fiery locks. Moira hummed in acknowledgment, pulling back up and off the cock, giving the tip one final teasing lick.

She wasn't apart from the Queen for long, however, burying her face against the Queen's cunt. She breathed in the heady scent of her, one that smelled of musk and sweat, tinged with a hint of something fruity.

Moira's ears buzzed as she pressed the tip of her tongue against the Queen's clit. She was speaking but the geneticist could hardly hear her, focusing more on pleasuring her than anything else. After all, she tasted absolutely divine, she wasn't about to pause to listen. 

Her long spindly fingers spread apart the slick lips of the Queen's cunt, revealing her dripping pussy. Just as she dipped her tongue into her gaping entrance, spreading her sweet but bitter slick up her cunt, the hand in her hair tightened, pulling her back with a bit more force than necessary.

Moira gasped, licking her lips clean of the Queen's slick.

"That is unnecessary mutt," the Queen spoke, smoothing back Moira's hair in a wordless apology for the harsh tug.

"Now stand, remove your pants for me. I want you to ride me."

Moira flushed, her cheeks burning at the prospect. While busy with tending to the Queen's own needs she had completely ignored the heat building between her legs, including how her boxers felt wet and sticky as she shifted in place. She couldn't deny she was attracted to the Queen, and the prospect of fucking her was highly tempting.

Before she could even make up her mind her fingers were already at her belt. Undoing the metal clasp and pulling it free from her pants so she could access the fly and remove them. Her boxers came next, the Queen obviously not shy with her glances.

The pads of Moira's fingers rubbed against the patch of trimmed red hair around her cunt as she reached for her clit. A few simple strokes to tease the Queen had her hips and legs stuttering and shaking. She pulled her hand away, licking the small amount of slick from her fingers as she approached the Queen.

"Mmh, simply divine," the Queen purred, twirling her finger in the air for a few moments before speaking, "now turn around. I want to see your ass when you sink down my cock."

She turned around slowly, the Queen's hands resting on her hips to help guide her back down onto her cock. Moira couldn't help but let out a soft groan as the tip of the Queen's cock stretched the entrance to her cunt. More often than not Moira had the role of the dominant in her sexual relationships, her partners to _lazy_ to even ask if they could pleasure her.

It was the first time in a very long while that she had been filled like this, even with only the flared tip inside her to allow her to adjust, she found pleasure in the faint filling sensation, wishing for more.

Moira murmured, strings of Gaelic curses and pleas tumbling from her lips. The Queen's mouth was on her neck, licking up the sweat that gathered near her sternum and sucking dark marks into life. The kind that would appear within the next few minutes and cause her fellow Talon operatives to question them.

"...More," the geneticist found herself whispering out, trying hard to press down and guide the toy deeper into her aching cunt. However, the Queen's hands restrained her, holding on tightly against her frail hips, nails leaving small crescent-shaped indents in her skin.

Moira growled, a deep rumble in her chest filled with spite and anger, trying hard to no avail to rut down against the tip of the cock inside of her.

"Patience my sweet little mutt, I'll give you more when I deem it fit."

The Irishwoman's head was abuzz and the heat in her cunt continued to pool, oozing out and around the tip of the cock. She was so close to having what she needed, yet the Queen was cruel enough to deny her. Even when both of her hands reached up to grope painfully at her breasts she still wasn't allowed to sink down to take her pleasure.

Her toes curled in her boats, soft pants coming from her as she leaned forward, following the pull of the Queen's fingers against her nipples. Her breasts were sure to be sore in the following days, but right now Moira could only focus on the sparks of pleasure that raced through her body.

In fact, she was so focused on said sensations that she didn't hear someone approaching the throne. The person stepped into view, Moira taking note that it was the single-eyed guard. He bowed toward the Queen, his eyes flicking to the side to watch Moira. She hated the way he looked at her, like she was some sort of prize. If she wasn't in the middle of being fucked she would've told him off but another harsh tug to her abused nipples had her in an incoherent mess.

"M'lady, my Queen," Dagger began, shifting his gaze back to the Queen, "Talon scouts have been spotted by the Junker house. What would you like us to do?"

Moira furrowed her bow at the news, her untrained cadets had been spotted and could possibly be killed. Normally she would have no such problem with such a thing, but they were young men and women, still in their teens if she read their charts correctly. 

Her mind no longer felt stuffed with cotton balls, the full realization of what was happening crashing in like a tidal wave around her. She opened her mouth, preparing to speak,

"Wait-"

Immediately she cut herself off with a long obscene moan, her eyes fluttering shut and reopening as she felt her spit drool down her chin. 

The Queen had lodged the entirety of the silicon cock inside Moira's gaping cunt within one fluid motion. Her hips rolled upwards, thrusting off-kilter and rhythmless. 

Moira whimpered and moaned, finally allowed to take her pleasure. She pressed down against the cock, clenching hard around it and feeling every ridge and vein it was adorned with. The Queen gave her own breathy moan, feeling the way Moira's walls clenched and fluttered around the sensory cock.

"Leave the scouts be," the Queen said, her voice sounding impossibly cool and collected in such a moment.

Hell, Moira had entirely forgotten about the guard standing in front of them with how much pleasure she was in. Her gaze snapped to him as he bowed, hurriedly rushing away from the duo, his face bright red and embarrassed.

"Such a good little dog," the Queen cooed, her fingers running through Moira's fiery hair before tugging her head back and nipping against her neck, "I would love to keep you collared and chained here as my own personal plaything, how does that sound, mutt?"

Moira could only groan in response as she rode the Queen's cock, unwilling to slow as the burning heat in her core grew hotter and tighter. All she wanted was to find her release, not caring anymore for what the Queen had to say.

"Very well then, dog, I do believe you have earned your orgasm."

One hand now holding tightly to the left side of Moira's hip, the other snaking between her legs, brushing against the fluff that guarded her drooling cunt before rubbing light circles against her clit. Moira grunted in pleasure, rutting harder down against the cock as the Queen picked up her erratic pace.

Stars were popping in front of Moira's eyes, she was close. Close for the first time in a very long while. The Queen had to be close as well, her obscene grunts and groans growing louder and louder, her thrusts painfully off-kilter to the point the flared tip pressed up against Moira's sweet spot nearly every thrust.

"Fuck, Queen... I," she was stuttering, unsure of what to say as her core tightened, feeling like she was going to burst. The Queen snarled, growling low against her ear as she pinched Moira's clit between two fingers, rolling it slowly.

With that and a startled shout, Moira came. The pressure in her gut snapping as she found herself squirting, the sticky liquid running down the length of the toy, seeping into the cushion on the throne and some even managing to land on the dusty floor. Moira gave a frail whimper, leaning back up against the Queen to catch her breath.

The cock inside her still continued to thrust lazily, the Queen moaning shamelessly as she found her own release. She pulled Moira further down onto the cock, causing her to whimper from how sensitive her cunt still was after her orgasm.

"Well, that was one hell of an audience," the Queen teased. Moira nodded in agreement, feeling sticky and unclean from her cum coating her thighs and the sweat covering her skin. Yet she was too exhausted to move, content with laying against the Queen for how long she would allow it.

It was peaceful without the sticky sounds of their fucking. No one could be heard about, the only sounds being the creaky churning of the fan. 

Moira could get used to that.


End file.
